


Call Me Sir

by silverwolf_fox



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Dark, Drama, F/M, Psychological Trauma, Torture, galu
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 08:42:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14351949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverwolf_fox/pseuds/silverwolf_fox
Summary: Kidnapping her to Phantom Lord wasn't enough. Gajeel had to make sure that the fiery blonde understood her place. In all honesty, this is mostly Gajeel beating up Lucy





	Call Me Sir

**Author's Note:**

> Oh Lucy. What horrible things I love to do to you.  
> It’s so easy to write dark themed stories for the Fairy Tail characters. Fun, too!  
> Now, even though I am a full supporter of GaLe, I also see the potential of GaLu. Honestly, I’ll ship Lucy with just about anyone except Natsu (I prefer them as super close best friends).  
> Possible trigger warnings: this fic is violent with mentions of sexual assault (no rape).

 

His foot made contact with her torso before she even realized he was aiming for her. The heavy hit tossed her into the air as easily as a rag doll. A loud thump sounded when she collided with the floor, her body rolling along the filthy stones before coming to a stop with her nose pressed down. Her head turned so that her cheek rested against the cool rock beneath her, her chest tightening as she panted through the pain. There would certainly be a large black bruise along her rib cage, and the weight of his steel-toed boots most likely cracked one of her ribs.

“Gi hi hi,” he laughed. “Are we having fun yet, you fucking little rich girl?” Gritting her teeth, she refused to answer. Refused to give him the satisfaction. It didn’t stop her from crying out when his boot landed on her back, pressing her into the ground and putting stress on her already weakened ribcage. He crouched beside her, keeping a foot on her lower back, and grabbed a fistful of her long blond hair in his hand. Pulling those strands forced her to painfully contort back. One of her hands flew up to claw at the one he held her with while the other scraped against the floor to try and keep some of her weight off her scalp. “I think I asked you a question,” he hissed.

When he leaned towards her, she saw strands of long, black hair fall over his shoulder and brush along the floor beside her. When she remained silent, he growled and roughly released her, shoving her to the ground once again. Despite the agonizing pain she felt, the girl tried to crawl away, holding back an embarrassed sob when she heard bouts of laughter echo throughout the room. 

A rough hand wrapped around her ankle and dragged her back to her tormentor. She could feel her nails chip and break as she clawed against the stones in a useless attempt to stay away from him.

“Don’t be too hard on the girl, Gajeel,” someone laughed, his tone indicating that he really didn’t care what happened to her.

“I’m just gonna teach the bitch some manners.” The Iron Dragonslayer spoke as calmly as if he was discussing the weather. Pulling her up by her arm, hard enough that she was frightened he’d dislocate it, she was held with her back to his chest. A muscled and pierced arm was placed around her neck. The muscles flexed so she’d know how easy it’d be to choke her in this position. The callused fingers of his other hand grasped her jaw, and forced her to face the darkened main room of the Phantom Lord guild hall.

Her body shook with fear as her brown eyes saw how many wizards were sitting there watching her abuse and listening to her screams. Because of the gray stone and the darkness formed by the very few light lacrima spread about the room, the girl could easily imagine that she was in a prison right now instead of a mage guild.

All of the eyes gazing at her made her uncomfortable. Her clothes were torn and her skin was already turning a mottled purple and black. Gajeel’s chest vibrated as he chuckled, the scent of her fear was a sweet perfume to him, and it amplified when he spoke.

“Now then,” he started, “your first lesson is about gratitude.” She was turned in his arms, one locking around her waist to keep her pressed against him and the other finding its home back in her hair to tilt her head up so she was forced to look him in the eyes. Bright red orbs stared into her. The cruel mirth in their bloody color sent shivers down her spine, and the curl of his lips tells her he knows the effect he’s having on her. “Thank me for not killing you,” he ordered.

She gritted her teeth and hardened her eyes. His fingers tightened in her hair at her silence, and he listened to her sweet whine and watched the muscles around her eyes tense as she fought back tears of pain. His face came so near her’s that the tips of their noses brushed against each other, and he growled, deep in his throat. She felt his warm breath, which smelled of metal, on her skin. “Say it.”

“Fuck. You,” she breathed, her throat convulsing in a pained swallow and cough due to the uncomfortable angle it was held at. The resounding snarl resonated through her, her muscles clenching in fear. 

“You’re very rude,” he taunted, chuckling, and whispered in her ear, “I think I deserve an apology for your harsh words.” Pulling back he added in a sneer, “You almost hurt my feelings.” His shit-eating grin bared his sharp fangs and belied his amusement.

The young woman spat blood in his face. The fire of her rising fury worked against the terror that she felt as she watched his demon red eyes narrow. The room fell silent except for the furious snarl of the Iron Dragon Slayer. He let her go, but the captured blonde had only a brief moment of reprieve before a hand wrapped around her neck, squeezing hard enough that she knew it’d leave a bruise. Her throat bobbed, pressing against the warm, black leather of his fingerless glove, as she desperately tried to swallow air.

“Guess we’re skipping to the next lesson, perhaps the most important one of all: respect.” Gajeel dragged her by the throat over to where a group of mages was sitting. He flipped her on top of the wooden table with a loud smack. She winced and yelled as her bruised back hit the hard surface. Each of the Phantom wizards gasped in surprise then warily watched the dragon slayer, unsure of his plan. All Gajeel did was give a wide, shark grin. He held out his hands, offering up a buffet of the young, helpless girl tossed in front of them. “Have at it, boys.”

She looked over just in time to see him take a few steps back before feeling the first hand grab her leg. His words finally struck her. Like a dam unleashed, all of them went for her at once. Immediately flailing her legs, hoping to find a purchase to kick herself off the table, or land a lucky blow on one of them, her arms and legs were quickly held back down to prevent the struggle. The hand on her leg moved up to massage the fleshy part of her thigh. Another landed on her ribcage, sliding up to cup the underside of her breast through her shirt. 

“Stop it!” she shrieked, no longer able to remain silent. Her body arched and twisted in an attempt to get the groping appendages off of her. “Don’t touch me!” All the men did was laugh and press her arms to the table above her head. The one on her leg shifted to brush just underneath her blue skirt, and she did her best to snap her legs closed. Her honey brown eyes sought out someone to help her. The gleam of lust in the eyes of those touching her made her frantic, quickening her breath until she thought she might pass out. Dirty fingers slipped underneath her shirt to stroke the bare flesh of her ribs before pulling up her shirt to display her white, lacy bra. Heavy hands were prying her knees apart.

Though she couldn’t look around very easily with how she was pressed to the table, she could just make out other mages nearby amidst the darkness. The ones who sat back and observed with sick enjoyment. The angry shouts that quickly turned her throat raw became screams of fear. She was terrified. There was truly no one here to help her. No one who would stop these brutes from violating her.

No Fire Dragonslayer to save her.

Her gaze fell on the black haired Slayer that watched her. His arms were crossed, and a frown was etched on his face. “Please,” she whispered. He wolfishly grinned, watching as his guildmates pulled down her bra and indulged in the softness of her breasts, the cold air puckering her flesh.

“Oh, now you want to be polite? Gihi,” he mocked, not taking a single step to aid her. Fresh tears watered her honey brown eyes. Her hips bucked to try and dislodge a hand from flipping up her already too short skirt, banging her spine painfully against the table. The wood of the table scraped her flesh as she attempted to fight back.

“Please,” she begged. “Please help me! I’ll do anything! Please!” The sadistic grin grew impossibly wider.

“You need to be reminded of your place,” he commented, falsely apologetic. His glowing red eyes burned into her, not revealing a tendril of sympathy for her. “I’m top dog around here.”

The girl continued to plead for his help. Her body was growing weak from the constant effort after it had already taken a heavy beating.

“You are nothing. A pathetic bitch that can’t even save herself,” he taunted.

Nearly every inch of her had been touched by the grimy, rough hands of the Phantom Lord guild members. It was so dark that she wasn’t even able to give her villains faces. They all just looked like shadows to her. Somehow that made it worse.

“Please stop,” she sobbed to the faceless men. “Please stop them,” she begged of the Iron Dragonslayer.

He laughed cruelly at her. “Gi hi hi. That’s it, you worthless shit. Beg your Master. Plead for your salvation!”

There was a pressure that slid along the front of her underwear. She gasped, accidentally biting down on her lip. Blood welled up and stained pink the tooth that had pierced it. When the pressure shifted until it cupped her sensitive center, her eyes stared into the devil’s red gaze.

“Please, Master,” she cried out to him. “Please save me!” Fingers hooked into her panties to slowly begin dragging them down. “Help me, Sir.” It was just after she shut her watery eyes when she heard the first grunt. The man by her legs was gone. Refusing to look, she listened as with each thud or crack, another pair of hands on her body vanished.

Even when she no longer felt anyone touching her, fear kept her locked in the vulnerable position on the table with her arms over her head and her legs partly spread open. Sobs wracked her body, making it shake against the wooden surface.

Someone grabbed the collar of her shirt and dragged her off of the edge. Bits of wood from the uneven surface scraped against her. It’d be no surprise if there were splinters along her back now. She yelped at the sudden drop and landed painfully on her tailbone, the cold of the stone quickly chilled her rear. Shaky hands pressed against the ground, and her timid gaze opened to take in the several Phantom Lord mages now lying unconscious nearby. She sniffled and looked up along the studded arm that still held on to her shirt. His other arm had been replaced with a heavy iron club. Wrapping her arms around herself to cover her chest, she turned toward him slightly as if he could block the sight of the others while she straightened her bra and pulled her shirt back down. Despite the shaking of legs that wanted to give out, the Iron Slayer’s grip forced her to remain on her knees.

Continuing her observation of him, her eyes reached his face. Even though it wasn’t turned to face her, he was staring into her from the corner of his eye. She hated the smug look he had. Hated that he grinned like whatever just happened was okay.

“Now, what do we say?” he asked. Anger flashed through her, giving light back to her eyes and color into her paled cheeks.

“Fuck you,” she hissed despite the torture she had just been ‘rescued’ from, wincing at the soreness of her throat.

Gajeel clicked his tongue against his teeth. Lifting her up by the shirt collar, he slammed his iron first into her gut once, twice, and on the third time he let go of her so that the force sent her flying back. Her body pounded into the stone wall, crying out as she felt and heard her bottom ribs finally crack.

White hot pain seared in her torso at every movement. If she was lucky, none of them had broken enough to pierce her lungs. 

There was blood seeping down the back of her head from the impact. Her sight grew blurry, and she gagged at the sudden onset of nausea caused by the possible concussion.

She could sense his iron-toed boots stalking closer to her beaten body, which slumped against the wall that she swore had chipped on impact. Her right leg was propped up, the left lying limp on the cold floor. Warm blood dyed her golden hair red as it dribbled down to stain the back of her vest. Harsh coughs wracked her form, and she heaved up nothing but phlegm and blood from her empty stomach. When the coughing calmed, her head hung loosely with her gaze focused on the ground before her.

The taste of copper soaked the inside of her mouth. A drop danced from the split in her lip down her chin.

Her tormentor crouched down in front of her, a foot on either side of her left leg, and his arms resting on his thighs. As his shadow crested over her, she wheezed in a raspy breath and coughed, painting dots of blood across her skirt and his pants leg. The movement shot pain through her chest.

“Get this straight, girl,” he growled low and threateningly. “I’m in charge here. If I want to beat the shit out of you, I will. If I want to leave you to starve or leave you at the mercy of the slime in this guild, then I will do so. I rule your pathetic life.” He sneered. “Now try again.”

Trying to press herself into the wall, shutting her eyes as if it could hide her away from the Iron Dragonslayer. Her voice was frozen in silence, letting out only whimpers, until his right hand rose to cradle her cheek, raising her head to face him. She gazed at him through her eyelashes, and her breath hitched when his throat vibrated with a warning growl.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” she quickly said, fearing the repercussions of making him wait. “Thank you. Thank you, Sir, for saving me.” She spoke without pausing to take a breath and was left gasping the musty air. Hesitantly, she met his gaze, fearful of the unnaturally soft touch on her face. His thumb slowly rubbed along her cheekbone. His chuckle sent shivers down her bruised spine.

“That’s a good little rich bitch.”

Gajeel’s left hand moved to the back of her neck. With both hands grasping her head, he pulled her close, their warm iron and copper scented breaths mingling. Her body felt like a ragdoll, hanging limp from his grip. Every bruise and cut burned, one of her broken ribs shifted beneath her skin, creaking as the shattered ends grated against each other. But of all the physical trauma that had left her eyes dull, unable to even cry anymore, and her heart thumping in her throat, it was Gajeel’s words that twisted her mind.

“You’re mine now, Lucky Lucy Heartfilia.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know why I had a craving to write about Gajeel torturing Lucy.  
> Not much else to say. I’ve never written something this violent before.  
> Tried to show the beginnings of Lucy being naturally submissive, despite her dominant personality within a social context.  
> No idea if I’ll write more about this. I’ve been on the fence about adding on another chapter or two, but decided that I liked this chapter enough to post it regardless.


End file.
